


The Hat

by anemic_cinema



Series: World's End Boyfriend [2]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Child Abuse, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-26 01:14:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemic_cinema/pseuds/anemic_cinema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: No queers after the zombie apocalypse? I don't think so. Daryl has a confrontation with Glenn, which brings up some things that he'd rather keep buried. TW: child abuse, blood, homophobia/use of homophobic slurs, racism/use of racial slurs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hat

When the group first settled at the quarry outside of Atlanta, they had designated a “shower” area by the water's edge. In actuality it was just a cordoned off spot with a couple of buckets. It wasn't the Ritz, but it worked well enough as long as you didn't mind mosquitoes biting the shit out of you while you washed up. For Daryl, however, it currently held sweet relief. He had been hunting since six in the morning, and had run into several walkers. He'd dispatched them easily enough, but he had to forfeit the deer he had been tracking. Not to mention, his shirt and upper body were encrusted with blood and gore from entering in close combat with the undead. He smelt like an abandoned slaughterhouse full of rotting meat.

The promise of a bucketful of water and some soap was all that was on his mind. The day was shot to shit. All he wanted was to get clean so he could go be alone and away from the prying eyes of the group. The moment he had come back into the camp, covered in grime and blood, everyone flipped and crowded around him, trying to see if he had gotten bit. When they saw that it wasn't his own blood, they calmed down and went back to minding their own business, thank god. Nothing pissed Daryl off more than people pretending to care. He knew they didn't give a shit about what happened to him, and that they were probably more worried about him not getting meat for them than him surviving. Assholes.

By the time he got to the shower area, he was almost wishing for someone to look at him wrong so he could lash out. So the sight of the sheets that served as modesty curtains being closed, the noises of water being sloshed, and off key humming made his blood boil. And wouldn't you know it, by the looks of the pile of clothes outside of the sheets, it was that little sonofabitch Glenn who was in there. Fuming with rage, and stinking of rotting blood, Daryl grabbed the sheets and pulled them back with a growl.

“Out. NOW!”

Glenn sputtered, soap still in his eyes. The rude intrusion made him knock over his shampoo bottle (which had been watered down to oblivion, trying to stretch it out) causing the remaining content to spill out.

“What the hell man? I'm almost done, can't you wait?”

Daryl stopped dead in his tracks. Glenn was naked. Very naked. Very naked and very wet. The shock of it was enough to make the older man think for a second about what he had just done. And how embarrassing it was. Thankfully, Glenn dumped the remaining water from the bucket to rinse the shampoo out of his eyes, and glared at Daryl. That snapped him out of it. 

“C'mon chinaman, I ain't got all day!”

That tore it. Glenn had been polite to a fault towards Daryl, and to his brother. Even when neither of them deserved it. Even when they were racist dickheads to him. He was used to deflecting slurs and letting them roll off his back (growing up in a mostly white suburb in Michigan taught him that survival skill), but this was too goddamn much. 

“First of all, I'M KOREAN! If you're gonna insult me, at least get that right. Second of all, what the fuck is wrong with you?! I was almost done you...you...cracker ass!” Glenn had heard T-Dog call Merle that once, and it seemed to fit. “You made me spill my shampoo! Do you know how hard it is to find a geek-free store that has that shit?”

He grabbed his towel from the cord that held the sheets up, wrapped it around his waist, and, grabbing his clothes, walked off with as much dignity as a he could muster. Daryl was too shocked by the younger, smaller man standing up to him to say anything. He hadn't expected him to actually fight back. He was so used to seeing Glenn making nicey-nice with everyone that it had never occurred to him that there might be something as pushing him too far. Christ, he couldn't do a goddamn thing right. Feeling part pissed off, part sorry for himself, he took off his crossbow, dropped his clean-ish clothes on the ground, hung up his towel and grabbed the buckets so he could wash up.  
*******

Daryl felt calmer after washing up. He also felt kinda shitty about doing what he did to Glenn. He would've been a lot less patient if someone had pulled the same shit on him. He'd have to track down some game especially for Glenn, or maybe give him the extra bottle of shampoo he'd been hoarding. It would be easier than saying “I'm sorry I'm such an asshole” and it would mean more, cause what the fuck do words mean at the end of the day? Gathering his gear, he noticed a red baseball cap lying by the shower area. It was Glenn's. He'd never seen the guy without it. Daryl had pissed him off so bad he'd forgotten it. Daryl snatched it up, dreading having to give it back because it meant interacting with Glenn again. He was probably still steamed as hell.

Merle wasn't around when he got back to his tent, thankfully. When Daryl got into this kind of sad-sack mood, the last thing he wanted was his brother needling him. That usually resulted in them punching the shit out of each other. He sprawled face down onto his sleeping bag. He didn't have any obligations that day, so he could rest a little. He shifted his body so that he was laying on his side, and felt the stiff bill of the baseball cap dig into his thigh. He pulled it out of his pocket, turning it over. He ran his fingers over the stitching on the bill. It had white crusts of sweat on the inner brim. Without thinking he brought it to his nose. It smelt...good. Like sweat, soap, and musk. He breathed the scent in deep. It was weirdly comforting. 

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?”

The voice was Merle's but it was coming from a memory buried deep in Daryl's brain. Something he'd tried very hard to forget, but had stuck around like tar on a sidewalk.

“Where the fuck did you get that you little faggot?”

It wasn't a cap he was holding. He was seven, and was holding one of them ken barbie dolls. Where'd he gotten it? He'd found it on the school playground and stashed it in his bookbag. He hadn't been thinking. He'd just grabbed it and brought it home. It didn't have any clothes on it, and he'd been sitting on his bed staring at it, running his fingers over the smooth plastic skin when Merle had busted into the room they shared. He could feel his face turning red, he couldn't meet his brother's angry, disgusted gaze. He knew Merle was gonna beat the hell out of him, but that look felt worse than the punches and kicks he knew were gonna come. He didn't see the hand coming down to slap his face so hard it knocked him off the bed. He hit the ground hard, knocking his face into the edge of the dresser they shared. Warm, sticky liquid was pouring out from his nose. The tears in his eyes made it hard to see. Merle was looming over him.

“Gimme that fuckin' doll faggot. Don't you ever let me see you with that kinda shit again, or I'm gonna make you wish you'd never been born.”

His brother grabbed the doll out of his hands and spit on his face. He was still crying, but didn't make any sound. He forced himself to get up, stumbled to the bathroom, and washed off the blood pouring out of his nose. He couldn't breathe. His heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his skull.

When Daryl came back to his senses, he was in the fetal position, curled up on himself in his tent. Between his dad and Merle, he'd received too many beatings to remember. The scars on his body made sure to remind him of the physical ones. He'd tried his entire adult life to forget the ones that hadn't left scars. Not the kind that another person could see anyways. Drugs and booze had helped to make a barrier, but the memories always seeped back through the cracks no matter what he did. He looked at the cap in his hands. He was gripping onto it so hard he had practically snapped the bill in two. If Merle saw it, or even just saw him giving it back to Glenn, there was no doubt he'd catch hell for it. So he shoved it under his sleeping bag. He'd figure out later a way to get it back to Glenn without anyone else knowing.  
*******

Daryl was back at the shower except it was a real shower, like the one in his dad's house. He was naked, but someone was in there already. He yanked the shower curtain back, and it was Glenn, standing there, very naked and very wet. Instead of yelling at him he smiled and held his arms out. Daryl stepped into the hot water and the hot embrace of the younger man's arms. There were no words, just touching, feeling, an overwhelming tenderness. Glenn's mouth on his, kissing him so beautifully and sweetly, like kissing Daryl was the best thing in the world. He buried his face in the younger man's hair, breathing in the comforting smell that it held...  
*******

Daryl twitched awake. Instead of the warmth and tenderness of the dream, he was left with the sticky night air growing stale in his tent. He kicked off the sleeping bag, rolling onto his back. He was still halfway between being awake and dreaming. When he closed his eyes he could still see the image of Glenn holding him close. He ran his hands over his face, not wanting to be feeling this. He was half-hard and needy from the dream. Focusing his mind on anyone else but Glenn, he reached into his underwear and started stroking his cock. He thought of Andrea, Amy, Lori, Jacqui, Morales's wife, even Carol, anyone else but Glenn. “I'm not I'm not I'm not goddamn it I'm not a fag” was the mantra that always ran through his head when he masturbated, as if it would magically protect him from thinking and being aroused by the thought of being with another man.

It was futile though, because all the images of naked, eager women we're replaced with images of Glenn. Too horny to stop, and hating himself for it, Daryl let it happen. Thoughts of Glenn on his knees, smiling up at him with that ridiculously beautiful grin that lit up his whole face, and made Daryl think of things like sunshine streaming through tree leaves. Glenn willing, wanting him, offering himself to him. Glenn not disgusted by his scarred body, instead touching him with reverence and kindness, telling him he was perfect and wonderful and worthy. He thought of Glenn's naked, wet body, how perfect and unblemished his skin was, and how sweet the tanned parts of his arms looked compared to the parts of him that didn't get any sun. How pretty he looked with his wet hair plastered down on his forehead. Daryl's free hand desperately searched under his sleeping bag and pulled out the hat. He buried his face in it, inhaling the smell of Glenn, still strong despite being in his tent all day. It made him frantic, jerking his cock hard and fast. He was totally focused on the scent of the younger man, and how intimate it was. Like he was actually there with him, and that it was his hand on his cock. That thought was enough to make him cum, his thigh muscles tensing hard. Daryl whimpered quietly into the hat, feeling shame wash over him. Christ, what the fuck was wrong with him. Sniffing Glenn's hat like some pervert and getting off on it. His stomach knotted up and he felt disgusting. He wiped his hand on his already less-than-clean sleeping bag and threw the hat away from him. 

“Stupid stupid stupid disgusting faggot look at you you pathetic fuck you know you're too ugly and stupid for anyone to love god you know you're no good why do you even try you fucking idiot...” the voice inside his head sounded exactly like Merle's, and Daryl let those words wrap around his brain until all he felt was anger and disappointment in himself. With that hateful lullaby coursing through his head, he fell back asleep.  
*******

Glenn woke up, and groggily crawled out of his tent into the growing heat of the day. As his eyes adjusted to the daylight, he noticed something by the entrance of his tent. It was the hat he had lost yesterday, with a full size bottle of shampoo sitting in it. He blinked, sleep still in his eyes. If this was what he thought it was, it was getting kinda weird.


End file.
